Star Wars: Episode III: Rise of the Empire
by Bananakin
Summary: My long-lost Episode III fanfic returns from the dead! Please read and review...
1. Chapter 1

Star Wars: Episode III: Rise of the Empire

It is a dark time for the Republic. The continuing war against the Separatists has taxed their resources to the limit. Many of the Jedi Knights, guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy, have decided to become Generals, helping to command the clone army, in an attempt to bring a quick end to this conflict.

The Separatists, under the leadership of Count Dooku, have created plans for an armored space station, code-named the Death Star, with enough firepower to destroy an entire planet. To complete such a station would require innumerable resources, and the asteroids in the Pogaq system have been pinpointed as a potential source.

Anakin Skywalker, recently granted the title of Jedi Knight, has volunteered to lead a task force, in an attempt to stop the Separatists from gaining control of such a crucial system. If the Death Star were to be completed, it could spell the end of the Republic, and the Jedi themselves….

A single ship sat in the dark void of space. Other than the occasional meteor or piece of space junk, there was nothing to punctuate the emptiness that seemed to penetrate one's self when heading out into a vacuum. It was the perfect place for peace and meditation, or a secret meeting, or…

_…or an ambush, _Seeri finished, allowing himself a grim smile.

He punched the sublight engines, and as the sudden acceleration pushed him back against his chair, he called up a sensor scan on the medium sized planet ahead of him. _Pogaq__, he thought it was called. _

_Pogaq__ 3, he amended, as the data scrolled up on his monitor. With a brown, slightly squashed appearance, Pogaq 3 had an entirely unremarkable history. The small band of humans that had managed to eke out an existence in the mountainous terrain had stayed entirely neutral during the Clone Wars, joining neither the treacherous Republic nor the rightful heirs to the galaxy, the Separatists. In his mind, this made them worse than his enemies. He at least had a semblance of respect for those in the Republic. They believed in a cause enough to fight for it. _

_It may be the _wrong _cause, but at least they're fighting for it._

The people of Pogaq, on the other hand, were sitting out the war, unwilling to take a stand or declare loyalty.

Loyalty. That was what it all came down to, really. Loyalty to a government, loyalty to one's values, loyalty to one's self. It was something he could understand and respect, and since the people of this planet seemed to have none, his opinion of them was lower than that of even the hated Jedi.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to concentrate. He had a mission, and he wouldn't fail. The Separatists were counting on him, since he was uniquely qualified for this particular job. Their reliance on droids was one of the few policies he disagreed with, and as a result, he had joined the military, becoming one of the few living creatures to do so. Along with loyalty, he held honor in high regard, and he felt hiding behind an army of machines was not the way to gain honor.

The droids were good enough at fighting; that wasn't the problem. The problem stemmed from their total lack of creative thought, and their inability to adapt to unexpected situations. They just didn't have the flexibility of a person.

_Case in point, _Seeri thought to himself, _this mission._

The mission he had been assigned required the finesse and ability to truly think of a living creature, and he would succeed. Pushing all thoughts of droids and loyalty out of his mind, he set to work.

*     *     *

Anakin Skywalker sat in his cockpit, trying to quell the unpleasant stirrings of fear in his mind. _There is no emotion; there is peace, _he quoted to himself. The familiarity of the Jedi code provided an anchor, an anchor which allowed him to be brought back to reality.

_Focus, _he told himself. This wasn't a mission that could be flown with thoughts halfway across the galaxy. The very survival of the Republic depended on it. If the Separatists were able to gain control of the Pogaq system, it could swing the tide of the war in their favor. Running through his Jedi calming exercises, he once again mentally went through the mission plan.

In theory, it was a simple enough mission: Gain control of the Pogaq system, and if the Separatists had already done so, try to wrest it back from them. The task force that had been assembled was large enough to do the job, and Anakin was confident in his abilities.

Unfortunately, if three years of warfare had taught him anything, it was that the simplest missions always turned out to be the most dangerous. As he tried to figure out if it was this that was causing the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, or if it was his Jedi instincts kicking in, he realized that the proximity alarm installed on his ship was pinging. It was almost time for the reversion to realspace. As he watched the timer on his board count down to zero, he pulled back a lever, and the mottled sky of hyperspace became a speckled starfield, with a brown, slightly squashed-looking planet dominating the view. Surrounding the planet was a ring of asteroids, and directly in front of that was…

"The Separatists!" Anakin called to the rest of the task force. "They must have beaten us here! Landing team, go! Cruisers, deploy your fighters, and move into attack range on their Battleships." Smiling, he added, "Let's remind them of why they should never trust a droid to do person's job."

The clones that he was flying with all replied with a "Yes, sir," but their flat, emotionless voices made Anakin wonder if that last comment had been at all accurate. With a slightly ironic smile, he realized that he knew droids that had more personality than his fighter group. 

Glancing down at his sensor boards, he saw that the Separatists, too, had deployed their fighters. A mix of Geonosian fighters and Trade Federation droid starfighters, their three full squadrons equaled his own total, at least in numbers. Realistically speaking, however, they were no match for his group. 

They were flying the most advanced starfighter in the galaxy, the newly designed Sienar MX-1. Powered by twin ion engines, it had a roughly ball-shaped cockpit, with two stabilizers jutting out on the sides. Four lasers were mounted, two on each side, with one above and one below the stabilizer. Connected to the cockpit by the stabilizers were two engines, giving the ship hyperspace capabilities. It was somewhat lacking in speed and maneuverability, but to compensate, a shield generator gave a least a small level of protection.

All in all, the ship's appearance reminded Anakin of the Naboo Starfighter, minus the sharpened "tails" that jutted out from the cockpit and engines. A stray memory flashed by, of the last time he had flown against a Trade Federation battle ship. He had flown the strangely elegant, yet deadly craft into the heart of the ship, and inadvertently fired off two proton torpedoes into the main reactor. At the time, he had thought it nothing but luck, but now, he knew it was the Force. He could only hope that it was with him now.

He could hear shouts and yells through his comm unit, last minute orders before the two forces came within range. He ignored them. Deeply immersed in the Force, he knew that none of them were directed at him. Besides, he needed to concentrate. To come out of this battle, he would have to use all of his Jedi skills, as well as his natural piloting ability.

With the opposing ships still out of range, Anakin leaned back in his seat, having nothing to do for the moment. He felt a subtle touch on his mind, a gentle probe that he immediately recognized as his former master, Obi-Wan. _Probably wondering if I'm okay. _He send out a message through the Force, a nonverbal impression that said all was well, and turned back to the battle.

Finally, the opposing fighters were within range. Choosing a droid starfighter as his target, Anakin waited until he had a targeting lock, and fired. The four lasers missed the cockpit, but managed to sever one of the fighter's wings. Spinning out of control and trailing fire, the ship exploded. Glancing at his tactical board, he saw that in the initial pass, the Separatists had lost five ships; the Republic only two. The clones, obviously, had been well-trained. 

Abruptly, his danger sense tingled, and he threw his ship in a rolling dive. Two lasers shot past above him; obviously, he had picked up a tail.

He immediately put his craft through a series of evasive maneuvers designed to shake off an enemy. Coming out of the move, he smiled, thinking there was no way anyone could have stayed with him through that.

Two more lasers flew by, singeing his shields and jolting him back into reality.

Whoever the pilot behind him was, he obviously had lots of combat experience. Unfortunately for him, this experience didn't necessarily extend to fighting Jedi Knights. 

Smiling, Anakin reached out with the Force, and spun his craft 180 degrees on the spot. Suddenly facing a craft that had just been going the other direction, the enemy pilot was too stunned to react. Anakin fired, and caught a glimpse of the explosion as he shot past. He turned back to the battlefield, seeking a new target.

*     *     *

Obi-Wan sensed his former apprentice's tension a second before they came out of hyperspace. He wasn't able to pick up on the exact cause, but it could only be one thing: the Separatists. His suspicion was confirmed a moment later as they entered realspace to find a fleet of Trade Federation battleships awaiting them.

Anakin's voice came crackling through, ordering ground team to launch. _His_ team. Working the controls of the shuttle he had been given command of for the mission, he brought the ship out of the hangar bay, into the raging battle. He keyed for the other shuttles to follow, and then headed toward the planet.

The Republic had recognized the importance of the Pogaq system, and had responded accordingly, sending Anakin and a task force to take control of the system. This was all well and good to destroy any Separatist starships that might be there, but to gain control of and hold on to the planet itself, that would require a team of soldiers. Thus, Obi-Wan had been given command of ground team, and with it an array of clone troopers. The only problem was that if the natives on the planet couldn't be convinced to join the Republic, his orders were clear: Gain control of the system by any means necessary, using force if called for. Obi-Wan knew that he was serving the greater good here, but he still felt reluctant to take an innocent world by force or threat of force. He could come up with many rationalizations, but he just wasn't able to shake the feeling that this attack was all too similar to the invasion of Naboo, all those years ago.

Shrugging off his ethical dilemmas, he brought the shuttle on a course for the planet, above the asteroid field, and as far away from the battle as possible. Armed to the teeth, it was unlikely that any of the shuttles would be attacked during their trip to the planet, but Obi-Wan didn't want to take any chances.

He looked out the front viewport, and saw the flashes and explosions that were typical of any space battle. He reached out with the Force, wondering how Anakin was doing, and picked him out almost immediately. Of course, he couldn't tell his exact situation, but Anakin sent him a message, confirming his safety.

Belatedly, he realized that he was now in range of the planets communications, and they were hailing him. 

"…repeat, Unidentified ship, please state your intentions."

Flicking the comm switch, Obi-Wan replied, "This is the Republic ship, the _Infinity_."  This was it; the moment that decided whether he would have to use force or not. Holding his breath, he added, "We have a proposition for you."

An hour later, Obi-Wan was on the ground, discussing terms of the Pogaq system's entry into the Republic. He was still amazed that it had been this easy, and he wondered if the Force was in some way toying with him.

Surprisingly, the Pogaqians had jumped at the opportunity to join the Republic. Apparently, when the Separatists had entered the system, they had immediately stormed the planet by force. The fact that the Republic had been more diplomatic in their approach had worked in their favor, and the ruling council of Pogaq had quickly and unanimously voted in favor of joining the Republic.

Relieved that he wouldn't be ordered into something that could trouble him ethically, Obi-Wan enthusiastically responded to the one remaining challenge: The citizens of Pogaq might be willing to give control of the planet to them, but he doubted the remaining Separatist forces on the planet would be as cooperative. His job was to neutralize them, and then set up a defensive position which would, hopefully, be enough to keep control of the planet. Finally, he had a tangible enemy that he could fight, not some nameless fear inside of him. 

They took the shuttle to the outskirts of the enemy camp. They were outnumbered at least two to one, Obi-Wan saw, but he wasn't too worried. His clone troopers were much superior to the droids, and he could make a significant difference in the battle as well.

Unfortunate for him, he had a difficult decision ahead of him. Directly in between his shuttle and the camp was a large crater, obviously the remnant of a asteroid knocked out of orbit. Going around it would take an hour of extra travel time, which would give the droids another hour to find them. Plus, going through would conceal them from the droid's better. The only problem was, if they had been detected, the crater would be the perfect place to spring an ambush.

Weighing his options, Obi-Wan decided that it was unlikely they had been detected. Their shuttle had one of the best sensor-stealth modes available, and their approach had been very cautious. Besides, if they were planning an ambush, he should be able to sense it long before it was sprung. 

At least he hoped so.

Trusting his fate to a ship's technology, and his ability to sense machines, didn't sit well with Obi-Wan, but he had to hope that the Force was guiding his judgment. Sighing, he started the trek down the slope of the crater, taking a small team of twenty to help avoid detection.

They were about halfway across the crater, when Obi-Wan's danger sense tingled. He took out his lightsabre, and, letting the Force guide his hands, brought the blade up to neatly intercept two incoming bolts. He heard the cocking sound of eighty or so guns being loaded, and saw their muzzles poke over the edge of the crater.

"It's an ambush!" Obi-Wan shouted, jumping into action immediately. "Get into a defensive position."

Realizing that they weren't in a good position, with the enemy outnumbering them, and no sizable cover in sight, he did the only thing he could.

_Help, _he called, hoping his apprentice could hear him.

*     *     *

Anakin surveyed the battlefield, assessing how badly their fleet had been damaged. So far, the Republic had roundly outfought the Separatists, but they had still suffered some damages. They had lost one of their Republic Assault Ships, and seven of their fighters, and Anakin was doing his best to keep it at seven.

Weaving in and out of the battle, his ship was less a machine than an extension of his body. The pilots he faced were good, but with the Force he was able to anticipate their next move, and plan for it. 

The droids, on the other hand, he could not sense, which made them a worthy opponent. The one he was currently chasing seemed to favor vertical up and down movement, a feature he could exploit.

"Two, on me," he called.

His wingman appeared at his side. "Orders, Leader?"

"Yes. On my mark, I want you to fire at that starfighter, but I want you to miss, low."

If the clone felt any confusion at being ordered to miss, he hid it well. "As ordered."

Anakin didn't think the clone understood the reason for the order, but he would obey. After all, that was what clones did.

"Mark."

His wingman fired, and just as he'd expected, the fighter dodged up.

Up, right into Anakin's line of fire. Idly, as he blew the ship out of the sky, he wondered who had programmed such an obvious flaw into the droid.

Putting the thought out of his mind, he looked around the battlefield for more targets…

Only to find the battle effectively over. Anakin blinked in surprise. He'd been so focused in the Force that he hadn't noticed the enemy's slow attrition. He'd just taken out the last of the fighters, and all the capital ships had been neutralized, as well.

It was about that time that he heard Obi-Wan's call for help. It rolled over his mind, a wordless message of dire need. Whipping his ship around, he shot towards the asteroid field. The asteroid field…which directly blocked the quickest path to Obi-Wan. Conventional wisdom was that flying through an asteroid was a fast and messy way to commit suicide, but if Obi-Wan was in danger…

Making a quick decision, he set a course through the least dense part of the asteroid field he could find. He throttled up to full power, urging his ship to go faster, and entered into the maelstrom. 

Using the Force, he was able to sense and avoid most of the bigger asteroids. A few smaller ones struck harmlessly against his shields, but none penetrated to his hull.

His danger sense tingled about a half-second ahead of his R4 unit's warning. Reacting instantly, he dove down and to the left, just as the nearest asteroid to him blew up. Somehow he managed to guide his craft through the hailstorm of small rocks without any serious damage, but he did hear some ominous thuds, and a high-pitched squeal from his droid. He had more important things to worry about, though. _Like survival._

Guiding his craft through the remainder of the field, fully expecting it to blow up at any moment, he set a course for the general area that he had heard Obi-Wan's call from. As he entered the atmosphere of the planet, he finally had a chance to read the damage report his monitor.

The results were fairly promising. The life support, hyperdrive, and communications systems were all working, and hull integrity was holding, so he could make the journey home or call for help, if needed. Shields were down but would be brought back up in a few minutes, and repulsorlifts were still functioning, if marginally. The only system that seemed to be damaged beyond repair was weapons. _Which means I may not be much help to Obi-Wan._

Realizing he had to do what he could, with or without weapons, he keyed for a sensor scan, searching for any sign of his former master.

He found him quickly enough, at the center of a large impact crater. Sure enough, there were signs of a fight going on, and at this range, it would take him five or six minutes to reach him. Hoping he would get there in time to be any help, he shot off at top speed.

*     *     *

Obi-Wan surveyed the situation around him, and realized it was getting worse all the time. The droids had called in reinforcements, and they would no doubt be arriving soon. So had he, for that matter, but Obi-Wan had no idea when Anakin would be able to come, or if he could come at all. As it was, they were barely holding it together. He was able to hold most of their shots at bay, but if they started to concentrate their fire, or if more of them arrived, he didn't know how long he could hold them back.

It was at that time that Obi-Wan heard the distant whine of repulsorlifts. At the same time, he heard Anakin send him a message. _Don't worry. I'm here._

The droids, surprised at this new arrival, halted their fire for a second, just long enough to bring their weapons to bear on Anakin's ship. Anakin swung his ship around, and made to land in the crater.

Obi-Wan frowned. _Why isn't he firing on the droids?_

Anakin jumped out of the cockpit, lightsabre in hand, already deflecting laser blasts back at the droids. Even he could tell, however, that the situation was hopeless. The droid reinforcements were coming in by the second. Even as they spoke, the droids concentrated their fire on Anakin's ship. A small explosion told him the power cell was gone, making escape impossible. There wasn't anything that could be done. Unless…

Anakin was struck with a sudden idea. He looked over at Obi-Wan, who understood and nodded. 

"On three," Anakin called.

"One…two…THREE!"

Working together, the two Jedi linked themselves through the Force. By doing this they were able to access a greater reservoir of Force than either one of them could have on their own. Anakin felt a sudden energy surge through him, and he felt as if a limitless source of power had been placed at his fingertips. He found the experience exhilarating, and more than a little seductive. He quashed the feeling, knowing it to be of the dark side, and focused on the task at hand. He had a huge amount of Force energy, now all he had to do was direct that energy. Working together, he and Obi-Wan _pushed._

An explosion of energy shot out, with the two Jedi at the center. Indiscriminate to enemies and friend, the shockwave knocked out both droid and clone, and everything within a kilometer was sent to their feet. Anakin's fighter was smashed against the wall of the crater, as if no more than a twig. Opening their eyes, the two Jedi glanced at each other and grinned sheepishly. The danger had passed.

*     *     *

Both Anakin and Obi-Wan were being checked over at the Republic camp, by the Jedi Healer that had been assigned to the mission, when the message came through.

A tech appeared at the console. "Listen, you two better get back to the crater. I've got something here…well, I'm not exactly sure what it is. But I have a feeling that if it's not taken care of, it could threaten the Republic itself. And the Jedi."

"Well," the Healer said, looking slightly alarmed, "there doesn't seem to be any residual effects from the Force storm you unleashed. I don't see any reason why you can't go."

Nodding their thanks, the two Jedi headed out, wondering what could be so urgent as to call them back to the recent battlefield.

The tech greeted them as they reached the crater. He led them down into the cave, through the entrance that had been loosened by their burst of Force energy, and into a lab.

"Apparently," the tech said, looking worried, "the Separatist had control of the planet for longer than we thought. Long enough, unfortunately, to set up this lab."

He led them to a console, and showed them what it was that had him so worried.

"Wow," Anakin replied after a moment. "So, no chance of a mistake?"

"No, I don't think so."

At last, Obi-Wan spoke, more gravely, it seemed, than he had ever done so. "I have a feeling, that the stakes of the war just became higher. The fate of the galaxy is in our hands."

--- Author's Notes ---

Well, here it is. My first attempt at fanfiction. I've been kicking around the idea for an Episode III story, but today I just sat down and decided to write it. I'll be on vacation for the next ten days, so to anyone who's reading this (see: nobody), don't expect a chapter for a while. Don't worry though, I'll be writing while I'm gone, and with any luck a new chapter will be ready for upload when I get back. By the way, if you _are reading this, please take the time to write a short review. As I said, this is my first attempt at a fanfic, so feedback would be greatly appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

_So far, _Dooku thought, _the war was going according to plan._

He himself had been amazed when Lord Sidious had been able to maneuver both the Republic _and _the Jedi _and _the Separatists into a neatly designed trap.

_And no one had seen it coming…not even the cursed Jedi._

Smiling, he thought back, three years ago, to the events that had led up to the war. The Lord's web was so wide-reaching and transparent that even Yoda could barely begin to grasp at it's extent.

Even then, his master had recognized that manipulations and subtlety could only carry him so far. Eventually, imposing his will by force would become necessary. When that time came, he would need an army at his disposal.

The only problem was, he would have to make it's creation seem justified and legitimate; otherwise, it would be seen as a blatant power-grab. That was where Dooku came in.

Traveling from system to system, he convinced thousands of planets to switch allegiances, and join a Separatist movement. He amassed a huge droid army, so that when the clones, which Sidious had quietly been creating on the side, were revealed, he would be able to put them in the Republic's employ.

While he had played a crucial part in the ploy, he did not for a minute think himself indispensable. Sidious' attempts to cultivate a new, more malleable apprentice in Anakin had not gone unnoticed.

Eventually, Dooku knew, it would be in his best interest to make a move against Sidious. Even with Sith techniques to combat aging, he wouldn't live forever. If he wanted to rule, it would have to be soon.

_Soon…but not too soon, _Dooku thought, frowning.

Sidious, he knew, was a skilled at reading people as he was at manipulating them. If any kind of deceit were to be planned, it would be spotted, and dealt with, quickly enough.

Slowly, carefully, he began to formulate a plan. He was not ready for a direct confrontation with hi master, at least not yet. To that end, he would immediately begin preparing for their inevitable duel. It would be a wonderful one, he knew; a challenge that would push him to – and perhaps past – the limits of his skills. But if he could succeed…he'd have power beyond imagination. If he failed, of course, he'd be killed…but failure just wasn't a concept Dooku understood.

As he sat there, plotting his little insurrection, Dooku realized he was one step closer to freedom.

*     *     *

Boba Fett hated meetings.

It all started with his search for a challenge. Despite being only 14, he was easily the best bounty hunter in the galaxy. So good was he that often, anyone with a bounty on their head would give up and simply turn themselves into him. While this did provide an easy method of obtaining credits, it let him somewhat at odds. His rigorous training program made it unlikely that any of his skills would diminish, but Fett wasn't in the habit of taking chances. He needed to test himself against the best.

Thus, when a man by the name of Sidious had contacted him, offering him a near limitless supply of valuable, and, more importantly, challenging, prey, he had jumped at the opportunity. It was almost too perfect. In addition to being paid a substantial amount, he would have the chance to hone his skills against the best in the galaxy: the Jedi.

_The Jedi. _Fett smiled. It was a difficult thing, trying to catch a Jedi. With the Force, they could sense a trap long before it was sprung, and plan accordingly. Even if you could sneak on one, they were still extremely capable fighters. To attack one, for most people, was suicide.

But then, Boba Fett wasn't most people.

The Jedi had indeed proved a challenge, but he had been more than up to it. The first and most important breakthrough had been the discovery of the planet Myrkr. A fairly small, unimportant planet, it was home to smugglers, thieves and other useless dregs of the galaxy, for one simple reason: both the Jedi and the Republic treated the place as if it had a hive virus.

Curious as to why the righteous and law-abiding Republic had chosen to ignore this festering pit of lawlessness, he had gone to investigate. The answer had turned out to be far more interesting than he had imagined, and far more profitable. The problem, it turned out, stemmed from wildlife. More specifically, one species of wildlife: ysalamari.

Ysalamari were small, furry snake-like creatures, sessile and entirely unremarkable except for one extraordinary trait: They pushed back the Force. Through some strange evolutionary twist, these creatures had the unique ability to create a bubble of about ten meters where the Force simply didn't exist. Naturally, the Jedi didn't appreciate being left powerless, and had done their best to pretend both the planet and the creatures themselves didn't exist.

Which worked well for Fett. In feigning ignorance, the Jedi left themselves vulnerable to anyone who discovered the secret of Myrkr.

So far, he had caught seven Jedi unaware with the ysalamari, and delivered them to Sidious. He neither knew nor cared what had happened to them; after leaving his custody, Fett's concern for his prisoners dropped to zero.

That was one lesson his father had drummed into him often enough: don't get involved. The mark of a truly good bounty hunter, he had said, was complete and utter detachment. To a professional, people weren't people, they were profits and opportunities. It was not for a bounty hunter to decide whether a person deserved to be caught or not; all they had to do was catch them.

Of course,  even if he had wanted to know what Sidious was up to, he doubted he could have found out. _The man plays his sabacc cards so close to his chest, they're probably imprinted there._

He smiled. Sidious was a master strategist, he would give him that. Fett couldn't fathom why he did half the things he did.

_Case in point, _he thought, _this mission._

When he'd been contacted by Sidious, two standard weeks ago, he'd expected the usual mission. Sidious would stipulate the Jedi he wanted, the deadline, and payment. This time, however, it was not a Jedi he wanted. It was an alien.

The alien, it turned out, was a gungan, by the name of Jar Jar Binks. He'd been a General during the war of Naboo, and later, served as an aide for Senator Padme Amidala. There was also some indication that he had been banished from his society. _Probably due to stupidity._

Other than these distinctions, his life had been entirely unremarkable, as far as Fett could tell. Still, he was probably the most famous gungan in the galaxy.

Fett snorted. That wasn't saying much.

The gungan had irked him from the very moment he had started trailing him. The only way to earn respect from Boba Fett as to have success in evading him. The longer it took to catch someone, in his mind, the more worthy of respect they were. He hated easy prey.

And Jar Jar was just about as easy as they came.

He snorted, the memory of how he had tricked the gungan coming back to him. It had been almost painfully easy.

He had contacted Jar Jar on Coruscant, pretending to be a representative of GASU, Galactic Aquatic Species United. He went on to say that since Jar Jar was undoubtedly the most well known member of any aquatic species, he would be the perfect choice for a motivational speaker.

_Fat chance, _thought Fett. _The idiot can barely string two words together._

Jar Jar hadn't even bothered to hide his enthusiasm, another trait that had earned him Fett's contempt. Emotions were things to be largely ignored, and in any case, shouldn't be worn on the face.

A date and place were set, which left Fett to wait.

Which brought him back to meetings.

He hated meetings.

For one thing, no matter who it was you were meeting, an employer, or a partner, or even a target, you could never be sure that you weren't walking into a trap. People, he had learned, couldn't be trusted.

Second, if you had to stay in one spot for long, you had already surrendered much of your advantage. A bounty hunter survived by being quick, versatile, and adaptable. If someone knew the exact time and location of your meeting, they'd invariably try to come and take you down.

For him, all meetings seemed to end with only one of the participants walking away. Granted, so far, he had always been that participant, but the idea that someday, he might lose one of those confrontations pestered him.

Not that he expected any resistance from an incompetent gungan, but it was never good to get overconfident.

For the rendezvous, he had chosen the world of Mon Calamari, which was, appropriately enough, a water world. One of the larger spaceports had provided a perfect meeting place: A small, out of the way bar, with low enough lighting, and high enough booths to prevent any eavesdropping.

Briefly, he wondered if the gungan would be suspicious that the leader of a respected organization had chosen such a seedy place as this. _Unlikely, he decided. __It probably wouldn't have noticed if I'd held it on Tatooine._

Looking around, there were eight or nine other occupants of the bar, two of whom, he saw, were the gungan's cover. He had immediately noted that they from Naboo, based on their gait and accent, and from their mannerisms it was painfully clear that they were bodyguards, and bad ones, at that.

Working back from there, it was easy. Naboo was not known for it's bodyguards, so logically, the only person who would hire someone from Naboo, would be someone from Naboo themselves, or someone too stupid to hire better ones.

Either way, it meant Jar Jar.

Still, his appreciation for the gungan went up a notch. By hiring bodyguards, even ones as bad as these, his target had shown a foresight he'd not have thought possible.

This opened up many new possibilities. If his target was smarter than he had previously thought, there was the chance that he had more preparations than just the guards. There was even the chance, however remote, that he was walking into a trap.

Fett tensed, and the tension in the surrounding atmosphere seemed to grow.

Slowly, with an effort, he calmed himself. He had gone over the bar with a fine tooth comb. He had studied his target thoroughly. There was virtually zero chance of an ambush.

He frowned. These bouts of unprofessional panic would have to stop, if he was to keep his hold on the bounty hunting profession.

Sweating, more from the oppressive humidity that the owner, a quarren, kept the place in than his nervousness, he almost reached for a his drink, before realizing how foolish that was. His armor prevented him from drinking; he had bought the ale only to appease the bartender.

Like his father, he had chosen to wear the armor of a Mandalorian warrior. While it didn't permit him to drink, his armor had saved his life on numerous occasions, and, he had no doubts, would continue to do so in the future. It was one of the most useful tools he had as a bounty hunter.

The armor itself was made of Mandalorian iron, and was strong enough to deflect or at least abate a blaster bolt, depending on the strength and angle. Besides protecting him, though, it also allowed him to conceal numerous weapons on his person. From wrist darts to a military-grade flamethrower, Fett suspected he was more heavily armed than a squad of clonetroopers.

His helmet, however, was probably the most useful piece of the suit. With it, he could switch to infrared or x-ray vision, scan people for concealed blasters, or communicate with his ship through a comm unit. It even contained a small air supply, so he could survive a few minutes in a vacuum.

_If I need any of those things today, _Fett told himself, _things have gone horribly wrong._

This was supposed to be a nice, easy mission. The target would come, he'd eliminate the target, he'd send a recording to Sidious, and he'd get paid. Quick, clean, and simple.

Somehow, Fett knew it wouldn't turn out that way.

It was another hour before his target finally arrived. Fett looked over at the two men he had pinpointed, and saw that his read had been correct. Their small, almost imperceptible reaction to Binks' entry gave them away.

The gungan walked over to the furthest booth from the door, just as Gava Eptarn had instructed him to. When Fett had contacted the gungan, he knew he couldn't appear as himself. Thus, he came up with GASU, and a false identity, Gava Eptarn. For the actual transmission, he had used a sophisticated computer program. It mapped the users facial features, and applied them to that of another species. Thus, when Fett spoke, he appeared as a Mon Calamari, with Mon Calamari facial expressions, and voice. In addition, he had sliced into the Republic central computer, so that when his target tried to check if Fett's claims were legitimate, he would find both GASU and Gava Eptarn. All in all, it was a well-planned, well-executed net. Fett was sure some of the best would have fallen for it, and Jar Jar was far from the best.

Fett got up, and slid into the seat opposite the gungan.

"Whosa, are yousa?" his target asked, in the garbled basic Fett remembered all to well from the transmission.

Surprised, Fett didn't know how to react. He had expected fear, or a call to his guards. Obviously, the gungan didn't even know who he was dealing with, which once again lowered his opinion on the alien.

Pulling out a blaster, he said in a low tone, "Sorry, Eptarn couldn't make it. The name's Fett. You're coming with me." Even his helmet's voice distortion unit couldn't keep the menace from his voice.

Stupid or not, even a gungan could understand a blaster. His eyes widened in fear, and small gulp escaped from his lips.

Hearing a whisper of movement behind him, Fett spun and fired off two quick bursts from his blaster.

As the man who had been sneaking up on him fell to the ground, with two blackened holes in his chest, Fett swung his gun to point at his companion.

Putting an edge on his voice, he said, "Don't even think about it."

The man, obviously scared for his life, dropped his weapon immediately.

Fett shot the man anyway, and then turned back to the cowering gungan. He motioned with his gun, and the alien started walking towards the door.

Then, with no warning, one of the walls blew in.

The gungan was knocked to his feet, but then was helped up quickly by two men who entered through the gaping hole in the wall. They dragged the shocked alien back out, and made a hasty retreat to their ship, and freedom.

Or so they thought.

Fett had been thrown against the opposite wall, which, unfortunately for him, was home to hundreds of bottles of ale, liquor, and other exotic mixtures. A normal man would have been sliced to pieces.

As it was, Fett got up calmly, and, brushing off the shards of glass imbedded in his suit, turned to the bartender.

As unemotional as ever, he spoke. "Sorry about the mess," he said, handing the quarren a substantial amount of credits.

When outside, however, he swore under his breath. His target had obviously been more prepare than he thought.

In retrospect, it was obvious. The gungan had with it a hidden panic device. When far enough from the wall, he could surreptitiously press it, and the two guards would come in and bring him to safety.

Fett smiled. They thought they had escaped, when really, they were only delaying the inevitable. _Still, maybe there's more to this gungan than meets the eye._

He ran to his ship, _Slave I, _and began the startup sequence. It was now a race.

_A race that I will win, _Fett thought a moment later, as he was shooting off towards his target. The gap between the gungan ship and his was down to kilometer, and closing fast. _Slave I _was the most powerful ship of it's class, and he knew it was only a matter of time now.

When he got within range, he started firing immediately. _After all, no need to draw this out._

His comm unit squawked. "Wait! Wesa can make yousa a deal!"

_No deal, _Fett thought, as he fired off a concussion missile.

There was one more yell that he didn't quite catch, and then static. He looked up to see an orange ball of fire blossoming spectacularly.

Suddenly, compelled by some unknown urge, he played back the last transmission.

Curiously enough, the Gungan's last words had been, "Ouch time!"

Shrugging, Fett turned back to piloting, and began searching for new targets, and new opportunities for credits.

----- Author's Notes -----

Whew! Chapter two is done, with traitorous plotting, bounty hunting, and the first death all incorporated. I haven't started Ch. 3 yet, but for my lone (so far) reviewer, it shouldn't take too long. Again, if you're reading this, please take the time to write a short review. Anyway, rejoice! Jar Jar's dead!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Anakin smiled, a predatory grin, as he swung his lightsabre on a course to decapitate his former master's head.

Moving faster than he'd have thought possible, Obi-Wan parried his move, and launched a counterattack. Anakin's smile shifted to a look of a surprise, and he leapt into the air, dodging the blow.

_How dare he!? _Anakin thought with outrage. 

As he landed, the younger Jedi lunged forward, and stabbed his blade at Obi-Wan's chest.

Again, it was knocked aside, but this time, instead of attacking, the Jedi Master simply brought his blade into an en guard position.

Anakin swung again, but try as he might, none of his blows could get past his opponent. Attack after attack, Obi-Wan blocked them all with apparent ease.

He was getting angry now. Wasn't he more powerful than Obi-Wan? Wasn't he the Chosen One? He kept swinging, with increasing ferocity. Although Obi-Wan knocked them all aside, he did not once attack.

_Is he toying with me? _Anakin thought, furious.

Finally, he snapped. Reaching out through the Force, he pulled his opponent's lightsabre into his hand, and swung with all his strength. The blade passed straight through Obi-Wan's chest, and a gasp escaped from his lips as he crumpled to the floor.

Just as quickly, he got up. "A good exercise," he said, examining the mark on his chest that was beginning to blister.

It was five standard days after the Battle of Pogaq, as it was now being called. Upon returning to Coruscant, Anakin and Obi-Wan had immediately sought refuge in the Jedi temple, to continue their lifelong struggle to understand the Force. Obi-Wan had retreated to his quarters, presumably to meditate over the issue had been troubling him for the past few months. Whatever it was, Anakin had been acutely aware of it during the battle. He, on the other hand, had continued work on his invention.

Throughout the history of the Jedi order, a problem had always plagued those who were training in the art of the lightsabre. For those not used to it, the weapon could be very hard to manage. One slip of the mind, one moment of inattentiveness, and you could just as easily slice of your own arm, rather than your opponents. And if wielding it was dangerous alone, trying to fence with similarly untrained opponents multiplied that danger tenfold. One could always use training poles, but they didn't have the same feel as that of a blade of pure energy.

Thus, Anakin had stumbled upon an intuitive answer. By replacing the crystal in an ordinary lightsabre, with that of a specially made artificial one, one could quite accurately modulate the frequency of the blade. When set to a certain frequency, any blades outfitted with these crystals would block each other, but pass through any other object unimpeded, leaving only mild burns in it's wake. Thus, the training lightsabre was born.

Now, all training duels could be fought with real lightsabres, by simply installing a secondary crystal. The crystals could be switched at the touch of a button, so one wouldn't be stuck at a crucial moment with a dummy blade.

Thus, he had challenged Obi-Wan to a duel, to test out his invention. 

"Interesting," he commented now, still staring at his chest.

"What is it, Master?" Anakin said, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

"If you notice, the mark on my chest seems to be the only residual effect of the blade."

Frowning, Anakin reached out with the Force. He focused on his former Master, and found that he had been quite correct. The only damage had been to skin tissue, though the blade had passed many vital organs, including the heart. Briefly, he wondered what had caused the strange effect, before his mind turned to other matters.

While the primary purpose of the exercise had been to test the new blade, he had had an ulterior motive. Just yesterday, he had realized that the recent battle had been the longest he'd ever gone without thinking about his left arm. His _mechanical _arm.

When he'd lost his arm against the terrible battle against Count Dooku, he felt as if a part of him had been forever lost. It had been a difficult decision to get a prosthetic limb, and an even more difficult one on whether to put an artificial "skin" on it. In the end, he had chosen to keep the mechanical arm, without any coverings. He wanted it as a reminder of what can happen if one isn't careful in a lightsabre duel. After that day, he had vowed to work harder than ever for his goal of becoming the most powerful Jedi ever. _If I just had more power, I wouldn't have lost my arm. Dooku wouldn't have escaped. _He swallowed. _Mom wouldn't have died. At that time, he hadn't wanted to forget._

Eventually, it had become clear that while the mechanical arm didn't allow him to forget the events of that horrible day, it was a distraction. In each and every battle he had fought in, he had been unable to push his arm from his mind. He kept questioning his abilities; whether his arm was up to the task of being a Jedi. He became so focused on this, that the other Jedi had begun to gently suggest that it might be time to cover up the arm. Up until now, he hadn't listened to them.

But upon returning to Coruscant, it occurred to him that if he could go through an entire battle, without for a minute thinking of his arm, it had become useless as a reminder. _Better to focus entirely on my goal. _Thus, he had succumb to the inevitable: he had covered it up. His duel with Obi-Wan had been a kind of test, a way to initiate his new arm, and see if everything was functioning well. And, in his opinion, he had passed.

Too bad Obi-Wan didn't see it that way.

"You must learn to control your anger," he was saying now. "Anger leads to…"

"The dark side, I know, I know," Anakin cut him off, with more than a touch of impatience. "How many times will you give me the same lecture?"

"Until I'm sure you've learnt the lesson," Obi-Wan's voice came back, with a definite coolness. He kept his hard gaze on Anakin for a minute, then continued. "In any case, I would deem the exercise a success." He smiled. "You may have changed the course of Jedi training here, you know. Years from now, people will still be using your training lightsabre."

Anakin smiled wryly. "Well, I was hoping I'd be remembered for more than that, but I _am _pleased."

The two Jedi walked through the halls of the Jedi temple in silence, for a while, simply enjoying the peace and familiarity of the place they had called home for most of their life. _Well, maybe not home, _exactly, _Anakin amended. For him, home would always be Mos Espa, Tatooine. __With Mom, he thought, trying to push down the feelings of sadness and regret. No, he decided, the Jedi temple did have a special place in his heart, but it wasn't quite home. Not yet, anyway._

Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the present. He could still sense his master's brooding, the dark feelings that were threatening to overtake him. He had hoped the duel would temporarily relieve them, but his efforts had been in vain.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Master, you seem troubled. What's bothering you?"

A smiled flashed briefly on Obi-Wan's face, before he answered. "Well, I suppose I couldn't hide it for long. Not from a Jedi, anyway." He sighed heavily. "Mostly, I suppose, I'm concerned for the Republic. This war is tearing everyone apart. The Senate is in shambles. And, most disturbing of all, I've noticed that our orders are becoming more and more ruthless." He shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know what can be done. The future seems so bleak."

Anakin was shocked. He had no idea that Obi-Wan's depression had gone this far.

"Don't worry, Master. I'm sure that Senator Amidala and Palpatine will bring order to the Senate." He smiled, thinking of Padme's fiery determination, and the Chancellor's good sound advice, offered in times of need. "If anyone can do it, they can. And the war will be over soon, I'm sure of it. The Separatists have been steadily losing ground for three straight years, and after Pogaq," he smiled, "they won't have enough resources to continue for much longer. And…"

Obi-Wan, no doubt noticing Anakin's hesitation, prompted, "And the orders?"

"Well…I have to say, I'm a little concerned as well. Did you hear about Maloar?" Anakin asked.

Maloar was a fairly important planet, along one of the galaxy's major trade routes. It's main exports were caf, and stim-tea, the drinks of choice for most of the galaxy when trying to get that extra boost that would keep them awake for all-nighters. The main ingredient in the drinks, _Hylis_, was incredibly rare, and found only in the Ch'hala trees, native to Maloar. Several examples of the trees were found in Republic Palace, lining the Grand Corridor.

Recently, there had been an uprising among the workers of Maloar. They had said that the Republic was unable to meet the needs of a worker population such as this, and that their taxation laws were unfair to the common citizen. They declared their intention to break off from the Republic, and join the Separatists. This, Anakin knew, wasn't a surprise in itself. The petty squabbling in the Senate prevented any real work from being done, and, unfortunately, there would be casualties. What was surprising, however, was Palpatine's response to the insurrection.

Instead of sending negotiators, or even Jedi, to help rectify the situation, Palpatine had ordered one of the worker cities leveled. Not military targets. Not strategic locations. Just pure, wanton destruction. Men, women, and children, the lasers and missiles did not discriminate. Even now, Anakin could not forget the fires burning, the bodies, the cries for help that the newsgrids had shown. It had made him slightly sick to his stomach. Many top military commanders, the ones who weren't clones, had refused to take part in the massacre. There was no other word for it, but massacre.

He knew the logic behind it was at least partially sound. In making an example of this community, it would deter other communities from leaving the Republic. As horrible as it was, it would probably save more lives in the long run. _Still, it just feels…wrong._

Now, Obi-Wan nodded. "I felt a disturbance in the Force."

Anakin grimaced. He, too, had felt the "disturbance," though he wouldn't really call it a disturbance. _It was more like a full blown Force storm._

He had been in his quarters when it had struck. The terror, despair, and pain had rolled over him, the sound of thousands of lives calling out, suddenly silenced. He did not know these people, but the thought that he would never know them was the worst part of it all. Face after face had rolled past him, all too scared to speak. He vaguely recalled crawling to the refresher, and retching, before lapsing into unconsciousness. Yoda's face, he remembered, had looked incredibly tired when he had come to wake him up.

Now, standing in the corridor, the memory still hadn't faded. Anakin wondered if it ever would.

"I don't know…it just doesn't make any sense.. Why would Palpatine, or anyone, do that? Even if he is serving the greater good, there are other ways to contain a rebel colony." The young Jedi looked distressed.

"I know," Obi-Wan agreed, morosely. "There are nights, long nights, where I think the Separatists have the right idea. There _is something wrong with our government. I just think working within it is a better idea than tearing it down and starting again."_

Anakin nodded. "Anarchy just isn't the way."

"Especially," Obi-Wan added, "if the anarchists support things like the Disruptor."

Anakin nodded, gravely. _The Disruptor._

After the battle of Pogaq, the Republic had discovered that the Separatists had had control of the planet for quite some time. Time enough, it happened, to create a secret lab, a lab devoted to new weapons research. And their first project was the Disruptor.

Even now, days later, Anakin could still see the plans in his mind. The huge, 8-kilometre long U-shaped station, larger than any Republic or Separatist ship. It appeared harmless, almost comical, but he knew the terrifying power that it contained.__

The most terrifying part of the Disruptor wasn't the thousands of turbolasers, the squadrons of fighters, or even the impenetrable shields. It was the magnetic generators.

The station's premise was based around that of a giant magnet. When activated, it would create a magnetic field, large enough to disrupt the planetary field, which protects the world from solar wind, among other things. This caused catastrophic results on the planet, while a blockade prevented any ships from escaping.

This wasn't a weapon to win a war, to destroy a military. It was a weapon of fear; of intimidation. Anakin couldn't imagine the evil that could even think about building such a weapon, let alone using it. He shuddered, thinking of the "disturbance" that would be caused if it were to be used. _It would be like Maloar, except a thousand times worse._

"Just one more reason why the Separatists must be stopped," Anakin said, finally.

Again, they lapsed into silence, neither one feeling the urge to speak. They were both lost in their meditations; in the Force.

This time, it was Obi-Wan who broke the reverie. "And, as if that wasn't enough, there's the reports of Jedi being taken captive by a mysterious bounty hunter."

He shuddered, thinking of his only encounter with a member of the unique brand of scum, Jango Fett. He wondered what had become of that unaltered clone, Boba.

"What I don't understand," Anakin said in reply, "is how this bounty hunter, whoever he is, could have sprung a trap on a Jedi. I mean, it would have been sensed, right? And even if he did somehow sneak up on him, I don't think any Jedi would be taken without a fight."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Another mystery, I suppose."

Anakin nodded, then looked around. They're wanderings had finally taken them to his quarters. Glancing at the chrono, he saw that between talking, and meditations, an hour had passed since the duel. Surprised, he headed towards the door. 

"Oh, and Anakin," Obi-Wan called after him, "I like the arm."

To Anakin, amid talks about subjects of galactic importance, the comment seemed hilariously funny. He started laughing, and couldn't stop until he was back in his quarters.

*     *     *

Obi-Wan chuckled, as he walked down the corridor with the vague notion of heading to the archives. His parting comment had been intended to lighten his former padawan's dark mood, and it had succeeded marvelously. _Still, Obi-Wan thought wryly, __I have the distinct feeling that more of my mood rubbed of on him, than the other way around. Even so, he was feeling more hopeful than in weeks. _

Sometimes, even in the darkest times, Obi-Wan knew, talking with someone could alleviate almost any fears. It was a remedy beyond anything an Emdee droid could prescribe. As long as he had someone like Anakin, a person he could talk to and confide in, he knew he'd be alright. _Relationships are the best medicine._

He thought back to their duel, frowning. He hoped Anakin had gotten his message. He was an excellent lightsabre duelist, but he too often acted in anger and fear. At best, it would only cloud his judgment, and at worst…well, one only had to look at Count Dooku for a worst-case scenario.

He was still shivering over the thought of Anakin going over to the Dark Side, when he sensed a presence behind. Turning around, he saw it was none other than…

"Master Yoda!" Obi-Wan cried, in genuine delight. The diminutive Jedi Master always had some useful insight into his problems.

"Greetings, Master Obi-Wan. How feel you, today?" Yoda inquired, in his own unique brand of basic.

Of course, Yoda knew exactly how he was feeling, and Obi-Wan knew it.

He smiled wryly. "Well, even if I said that I was fine, I don't suppose you'd believe, now would you?"

Yoda laughed appreciatively, a coughing, "hep, hep," then continued. "No, Master Obi-Wan, sensed your dark mood, I did, the moment I returned." With a gesture of his hand, he rose up in the air, more smoothly than any repuslorlift chair, and turned to face him. "Tell me, Master Obi-Wan, what's troubling you?"

Obi-Wan began to talk about his concerns; the Disruptor, the missing Jedi, and the trouble in the Senate, with Yoda giving small nuggets of advice, from time to time. When he reached the part about Maloar, however, Yoda shook his head.

"Felt it, I did. Terrible, this tragedy is." Looking up at Obi-Wan, he added, "Keep a closer eye on Palpatine, I feel we should."

Obi-Wan nodded. There were times when something about Palpatine seemed…not quite right. He said all the rights things, at the right times, but it almost seemed too sincere to be genuine. Obi-Wan had never trusted politicians, and he often wondered what Palpatine's hidden agenda might be. That, coupled with their orders becoming more and more ruthless…

"I agree." 

They continued down the hallways, Obi-Wan walking, Yoda, floating, discussing everything from Anakin's new training lightsabre, to Yoda's adventures over the past few months. Obi-Wan, however, had a different subject he wanted to broach, something he couldn't talk about with Anakin.

Finally, Yoda picked up on it. "More to say, have you, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master. I must say, I am concerned for Anakin." He told Yoda about the duel, and Anakin's increasing anger. "I know he's no longer my padawan, but I still feel a certain…obligation towards him," he finished.

"Noticed this, I have," Yoda said gravely. "Hiding something, I think he is."

Obi-Wan was surprised. He hadn't picked up on any deceit on Anakin's part, but then, Yoda was much stronger in the Force than he was. Reaching out, he saw that Yoda was right; there did seem to be something that wasn't quite right with his former apprentice.

Concerned, he said, "Perhaps I better go check on him," and headed off towards his quarters.

When he got there, he was surprised to find the door locked. Anakin usually only locked the door when he was meditating, so he wouldn't be disturbed. But nothing in Anakin's sense implied that he was in meditation. In fact, he seemed positively upbeat.

Frowning, Obi-Wan used the Force to unlock the door, and barged in. What he saw, shook him to the core.

Anakin was sitting at the communications terminal, talking to a very shocked, and very pregnant, Senator Amidala.

From the thoughts that ran freely from Anakin's stunned mind, Obi-Wan got a very clear picture of what was going on.

"Anakin."

*     *     *

Anakin was still laughing, as he sat down at his communications terminal. A talk with Obi-Wan could almost always cheer him up. He pressed a button, keying for a long-range transmission, and sat back to wait. It would take a few minutes to establish a connection.

Finally, a face appeared. The face that he was risking everything for. The face he loved. Padme's face.

She smiled, which only made her look more beautiful.

"Hi, Annie," she said.

Anakin growled in mock-anger. "I told you, don't call me Annie."

"Okay. How about Snufflemuffins? Or Schnoofie Poops?"

He put on a pained look. "I think I was better with Annie."

"Too late!" she crowed, laughing triumphantly.

Anakin smiled. Something about Padme could cheer him up instantly. They were soul mates, and nothing would ever change that.

They continued chatting for a while, talking about their fears, and joys, triumphs and falls. Belatedly, however, Anakin realized that someone was outside the door. He tried to end the transmission, but it was too late. Obi-Wan rushed into the room, then stood there in shock. Anakin was too stunned to react. 

It had been hard work, keeping his marriage to Padme a secret, especially from a temple full of Jedi. He had had to focus for every second of every minute, to keep a stray thought from escaping and giving him away. Now, with his former master standing right in front of him, everything was flowing from his mind. Finally, he clamped down on his thoughts, but from the look on Obi-Wan's face, he knew it was too late. He had been discovered.

"Anakin," was all he said, with a mixture of outrage and sadness.

----- Author's Notes -----

Yay! Chapter Three = done! Anyway, if ever I needed some feedback, it's now. This is definitely a dialogue-based chapter, and I never felt that I was as good at dialogue as I was at narrative. Please review, with suggestions as to how I can improve my dialogue. Anyway, I'm thinking that Chapter 4 will be another Boba chapter, so watch out for it soon.

Okay, I made a major edit to this chapter. Now, instead of the Death Star, the Jedi discovered the Disruptor, a new planet destroying superweapon. Don't worry, the Death Star will come in later. 

Now, to my reviewers, I can't tell you how much your feedback helped. Whenever I felt tired of writing, I just looked at the reviews, and was able to continue. Now, as for the questions you raised:

Hypercaz asked whether Darth Vader knew about the twins. Well, the way I figure it, he knew that Padme was pregnant, so when he found Luke, he thought that pregnancy was accounted for, and that he had a son. He wouldn't have known, however, that Padme had twins, and thus, wouldn't have figured it out until he took it from Luke's mind in ROTJ.

Qurahn, I know what you mean about Anakin and Padme. I thought it was a good way to show that they had a history, and that they were comfortable talking to each other, but even as I wrote it, I thought it was a bit earthy.


	4. Chapter 4

I just realized I haven't put in one of those disclaimer things, so here we go:

I don't own Star Wars, blah blah blah, George Lucas does, blah blah blah, I'm just playing around in his universe, blah blah blah, the end.

Well, how'd I do?

Chapter 4

Obi-Wan sat numbly in his quarters, still trying to figure out what had just happened.

Two days ago, he had been talking to Anakin Skywalker, his former apprentice. They had come to his quarters, and he had said goodbye. Sensing that something was amiss, however, Obi-Wan had gone back, only to find out that he hadn't been talking to Anakin. Not the true Anakin, in any case. The true Anakin wouldn't have deceived him, wouldn't have lied to him, wouldn't have betrayed him, nor the entire Jedi Order, for that matter. 

Obi-Wan shivered. _I haven't known Anakin for three years._

For that was how long that Anakin had been married. It still seemed hard for Obi-Wan to understand, but Anakin had married Padme Amidala, the Senator from Naboo, going directly against the Order, which expressly forbids attachment and marriage.

But the most hurtful part, at least for Obi-Wan, was that his former apprentice had kept it hidden from the Jedi for so long. Obi-Wan could still remember the words that Anakin had spoken to him, years ago: _You're the closest thing I have to a father._

He wondered when that had stopped being true.

Of course, he did feel a certain amount of sympathy to Anakin. The boy had been taken in to the Order when he was much too old, and he had a deep attachment to his mother. Obi-Wan could well remember the grief and anguish felt when Shmi had died.

But, Obi-Wan supposed, that really was the problem. Most Jedi were taken at such an age that they had no memory of their mother. Anakin hadn't, and this left him vulnerable to becoming attached to other people. _Like Padme._

She really wasn't such a bad girl, Obi-Wan decided. But Anakin's problem wasn't in his choice of wife. It was the fact that he wanted a wife in the first place. Jedi had a deeper calling than love or marriage. Their powers enabled…no, demanded that they try to make the galaxy a better place, so that someone they'd never meet, in a place they'd never visit, would be able to enjoy the things that they never would.

Obi-Wan smiled. It sounded quite noble, and he was sure that all the Jedi, including Anakin, would agree. The only difference was that while his former apprentice was saving the galaxy, he would no doubt be making sure he had as much excitement as possible. Anakin was as close to a rogue as any Jedi had ever come. Obi-Wan wondered what would become of him.

Already the Jedi council was having talks, regarding what to do with Anakin. Some said that he was a loose cannon, and that this latest escapade proved it. Others, meanwhile, stuck to the prophecy, saying he should be punished, not expelled. It was clear that this was a divisive issue. A hearing was planned, to decide the young Jedi's fate.

The newsgrids would of course be covering the hearing, and the story in general. So much regarding the Jedi was surrounded in mystery and intrigue, that any story having to do with them immediately caught the public's eye.

And from what Obi-Wan could gather, the public was on Anakin's side. The idea of a renegade Jedi was appealing to them, and one who would risk everything for love was even more so. To them, the Jedi were too studious, to devoted to their work; in short, too boring. That they would expel someone for not being so boring was galling to them.

The trial was being held to the public eye, as much as it was to the council. The Republic was already in shambles, and for the Jedi, the foundation upon which the government was built, to be falling apart, it would cause even more systems to join the Separatists, something no Jedi wanted.

It was going to be a difficult time for his former Padawan, Obi-Wan knew, with so many people watching his every move, judging him, trying to decide if he was worthy to keep all that he had worked for in his life. 

Obi-Wan only wished that he could be there with him, to help him through the hearing.

But it was not to be. After he had informed the council of Anakin's deceit, they had moved on to what they deemed 'more pressing matters,' namely, the Disruptor. Having such a weapon of mass destruction would mean that the Separatists could hold a planet ransom, robbing it of it's wealth or taking complete control over it. It had to be destroyed, that much was clear. The question that remained, was how.

Eventually, it was decided that a sabotage would work best. A direct, large-scale assault would be near suicidal, as the Disruptor had near-impenetrable shields, thousands of turbolasers and ion cannons, and a constant escort of two dozen Trade Federation Battleships. A single Jedi, however, might be able to sneak aboard, discover a weakness, and exploit it. Obi-Wan was chosen for the mission, after much debate as to whether his former Padawan's situation would distract him. Finally, Yoda had spoken up in his favor, and so respected was the Jedi Master, that soon after, the council voted unanimously in support of Obi-Wan.

So here he was, one man, attempting to destroy an eight kilometer long ship, with little or no outside help, with nothing more than a lightsabre.

But, he had the Force, which gave him better than even odds.

He got up from his bed, and headed toward the starfighter bay. It was time to go.

*     *     *

Obi-Wan lifted his Delta-Seven, the ship of choice for most Jedi, of the ground and out of the starfighter bay. It was a highly versatile ship, agile and maneuverable, yet well armed and defended; much like the Jedi themselves.

Of course, this made the fighter instantly recognizable, meaning Obi-Wan would be identified immediately if he showed up in one. No, he would have to steal another ship, and pose as a shuttle pilot of some kind. The only problem was that he had no idea where, in fact, the Disruptor was. They would only have that kind of information at a Separatist base. Which meant going back to the only Separatist base he knew of: Geonosis.

He shuddered, thinking of his one and only visit to the barren, rocky planet. It hadn't been under the best of circumstances.

Thankfully, the Delta-Seven had finally been outfitted with lightspeed capacities, so the hyperspace ring, which had fit around the wedge-shaped ship, was no longer necessary. The change had been prompted by several Jedi having their ring stolen, while it orbited around the planet, awaiting pickup.

With his course already programmed in, Obi-Wan cleared Coruscant's gravity well, and engaged the hyperdrive. The stars extended into lines, before disappearing completely as the sky changed to that of hyperspace, a swirling blue mass.

From Coruscant to Geonosis was a three-day trip, which was a bit too long to sit in a cockpit comfortably. Thus, Obi-Wan went into a Jedi hibernation state, with instructions for his R4 unit to wake him if anything seemed amiss.

He settled into a comfortable position, and sank into a trance. 

Three days later, exactly on schedule, R4's pinging awakened him. 

Obi-Wan looked around, still groggy from the hibernation. He couldn't exactly remember where he was going, or for that matter, why he was going anywhere in the first place. Why had R4 disrupted his sleep?

_Disrupted…disrupted…and why does that sound familiar?_

"Disruptor!" he called out to no one in particular. He was on a mission to destroy the Disruptor. Abruptly, all his memories came back, and he realized where he was. Hyperspace, en route to Geonosis. Speaking of which…

"R4, prepare to enter realspace." 

The timer on his display counted down to zero, and he pulled the hyperspace lever. Suddenly, instead of a mottled blue, there was the black of space, and the red of Geonosis.

Memories assaulted him: the battle against Jango Fett in the dense asteroid field, his near-execution in the arena, and the disastrous duel with Count Dooku, all intermixed with the deaths of his fellow Jedi. At the time, he had said that he'd never be coming back to the planet, yet here he was, barely three years later, returning for a second time.

He shook his head, clearing all thoughts from his mind, and focused on the mission. The planet was, of course, heavily guarded, with Trade Federation Battleships covering every sector of space around the planet. _Every sector, Obi-Wan realized, __except for the asteroid field._

Sighing, he set a course for least dense section of the planet's ring he could find, and wondered, for seemingly the hundredth time, _Why me?_

It actually wasn't as bad as he'd feared. He managed to avoid all of the larger rocks, weaving and dancing his craft around them. Some smaller ones struck harmlessly against the shield, and one snuck through to damage the landing strut, but nothing major.

He was just about to breath a sigh of relief, when two laser blasts shot above him, knocking out his shields.

"Get those shields back up, R4!" he yelled, while throwing his ship into the best evasive maneuvers he could manage without hitting an asteroid.

"This is why I hate space travel," he muttered to himself, all the while biting back a curse. It was obvious, in retrospect. The Separatists weren't willing to rely on the deadly asteroid alone as protection. Anyone who made it through the ring would be faced with an array of asteroid-mounted turbolasers. 

He grimaced. He hadn't been damaged, but the Separatists had undoubtedly been alerted to his presence, which meant he could very well be walking into a trap. He would be sure to send no transmissions, so they couldn't find his exact position, but he still felt uneasy. He hoped he wouldn't be requiring another rescue attempt. 

As he headed down into the Geonosian atmosphere for just the second time in his life, Obi-Wan was struck with an unpleasant thought: This time, none of the Jedi knew he was here.

He pushed all thoughts from his head, trying to clear his mind. He had to concentrate. The trick was setting down as close as possible to the foundries without coming within sensor range. Unless…

A thought had occurred to him. He could quite easily manipulate humans, though he was never at ease when doing so. He wondered if the same skill would apply to droids.

He reached out with the Force, trying to sense the machines as they worked. He couldn't exactly sense the droids themselves, but he could sense the impressions they made on the Force. 

From there, it was a simple matter of finding which droids where in charge of the sensor stations, then modifying their memory systems so that they would conveniently forget that there was a starship swooping down upon them. A slight bit of pressure, applied to certain circuits…

"There," he whispered, triumphantly. He could now land practically anywhere, so long as it wasn't within visual range of the base. He picked a suitable landing spot, a small ledge about halfway up a cliff, facing away from the foundries, and began his descent. 

He made the landing without incident, although the damaged landing strut gave the ship a disconcerting tilt to the left. He popped the canopy, and looked at the task ahead of him. 

It was a good 100 meters to the top of the rock face, but the numerous cracks and handholds made the climb possible, though difficult. Clearing his mind, Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, and _leapt._

Even with a Jedi-enhanced jump, he only made it halfway up the cliff. At the top of his arc, he grabbed at the nearest set of handholds, and latched on. Finally, after several minutes of half-climbing, half-levitating, he reached the top, and looked down upon one of the droid foundries of Geonosis.

It was amazing, really, the contrast of the outside of the building, to the inside. Obi-Wan had seen the huge, multi-level factory where the droids were built, and it was about as cold and utilitarian as it gets. All hard edges and corners, it was built to be supremely efficient, much like the droids themselves. Cold, ruthless, and lethally efficient, the droids were programmed killing machines, with no room for anything as frivolous as emotion or creativity.

The outside, on the other hand, was quite literally a work of art. Full of soft curves and smooth edges, it reminded Obi-Wan of the Jedi temple. It was built with the concept, not of form over function, but of form _and function. The building looked like a huge cone, with ridges spiraling to a tapered point. It did not seem to have any pattern or shapes that Obi-Wan could detect, but rather, it seemed to flow, as if it were organically grown._

_Which, _Obi-Wan reminded himself, _probably isn't that far from the truth._

He shook his head, pushing the thought from his mind. Right now, he couldn't afford to see the base as either of those things. It was simply a building, a building that he would have to work with if he were to succeed.

And that, Obi-Wan, supposed, was really the problem with the dark side. People deep in the dark side saw things two ways: either as tools; things that could be used to their advantage, or as obstacles; things to be overcome and beaten.

A Jedi, meanwhile, sought harmony and balance, trying to disturb as little as possible. It was better to work with something, rather than getting around it, or simply destroying it.

A dark side-user would have tried to overpower the base, and that would have been his undoing.

Now, he made his way down to the facility, trying to avoid being seen. There were droids patrolling the area, but their intervals were so regular, their movements so predictable, that Obi-Wan had no trouble getting around them.

Finally, he reached the sloped wall of the base itself. He looked around, and saw that he had miscalculated, perhaps fatally so. As he had worked his way to the building, he hadn't noticed the sun gradually lowering towards the horizon. He'd thought he had a sufficient amount of time to reach the base before dusk, but Geonosis' rotation, obviously, was faster than he'd expected.

Now, with the darkness growing around him, he had very few options in front of him.

All along, his plan had been to climb up the wall of the base, until he reached an uninhabited point. From there, he could cut a makeshift door and gain access to the building before anyone knew he was there. His own robes would camouflage well enough with the brown walls of the factory, but the glow of his lightsabre, especially with dusk fast approaching, would stand out like a tauntaun on Tatooine. 

He stood there, for a moment, at a loss as to what to do, staring at the wall in front of him. The very _organic looking wall…_

Working quickly, he pulled out his lightsabre. Looking around, he leapt up, about twenty feet into the air, and latched onto the wall. From there, he climbed another fifteen before he sensed that there were no droids on the other side of the wall. He activated the energy blade, and set to work.

It was quite simple, and Obi-Wan marveled that he hadn't seen it before. The Geonosians were quite obviously an insect-like species, that much was clear. What Obi-Wan hadn't realized was that the reason the outside of the base contrasted so much with the inside was that it wasn't built to be a base. It was built to be a _hive. _And a defining characteristic of many hives was their primary organic makeup.

Obi-Wan smiled, thinking of his mock-duel with Anakin. When the training blade had passed through his body, harm had only come to the skin tissue. At the time, he had not had any time to wonder what caused the blade to make such a strange effect, but for now, the fact that it did was sufficient for his purposes. For if the base was at least partially alive, the walls would surely be some kind of skin. _And a training lightsabre only has one-tenth the glow of a regular one. Anakin, you genius._

He carefully brought his blade in, an experimental cut. Sure enough, the material made a soft hissing sound and began to blister. Digging the blade deeper in, the wall began to shrivel up, forming a small hole the size of his fist. Finally, after several excruciatingly slow minutes of waiting for the hole to widen, it was finally big enough. He crawled though, and landed in a crouch on the floor of a softly lit hallway.

He was in.

Obi-Wan looked around, trying to gauge his surroundings. He saw that it was not so much a hallway that he had landed in, but a tunnel. It was round in shape, with a diameter of about one meter. It was not pitch dark, but the only light seemed to be coming from far down the shaft. There were no glowpanels, no droid tracks, or for that matter, anything that indicated the Separatists had ever been in here. _Probably deemed to small to be of any use._

The tunnel had a definite slope to it, with the path to his right leading downwards. After thinking for a moment, he decided to head the opposite direction, up to the left. After all, the command center was likely to be at the top, and what little light there was seemed to originate from that direction.

As he walked, he ran his hand along the wall, trying to find any other tunnels that might branch off. The material was definitely different from the outer wall, though only slightly, confirming his guess about the nature of the building, and the 'skin.'

After walking for what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, Obi-Wan stumbled to a stop, discouraged. Had he really seen light ahead, or was it just his imagination? He sighed. _Nothing to do but keep walking, _he told himself.He'd come too far to turn back now. 

Finally, after a few more minutes of walking through the dark tunnel, the monotony was getting to him. He was about to just stop and turn around, when the light changed from that of a diffuse glow, to a small pinprick, far ahead.

Triumphantly, Obi-Wan quickened his pace. The light _had been coming from that direction, after all. The pinprick grew with each step, until it got large enough for Obi-Wan to see what it was: A large, hexagonal door, with a glowpanel installed on the inside of it._

Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, and, sensing no droids on the other side, reached out and touched a button on the door's control panel.

As the door slid open, he carefully eased himself into the hallway. While there weren't any droids, they probably had security cams. Immediately, he saw that he had been correct. There was a cam, and it was swiveling right towards him.

He leapt back into the tunnel, and with the wave of his hand, shut the door just in time. He sat there for a moment, sure that he had been caught. When no alarm sounded, he allowed himself to relax, and let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

Obi-Wan frowned. He hadn't been spotted, but now there was the pesky manner of getting past the cams.

As he sat there in the dark, inspiration struck. He reached out with the Force, and, manipulating the circuits, did some fast reprogramming on the cam. 

He got up, and opened the door for the second time. He stepped out, and although the cam was pointed straight at him, no alarm sounded. Obi-Wan smiled. _After all, the droids monitoring it see nothing but an empty hallway._

He had modified the cam, setting it to loop, while playing an archived tape of an empty hallway. Of course, as soon as they noticed that no droid patrols were coming through, they would immediately spot the deception. But Obi-Wan expected to be out of the base long before that occurred. 

He wandered down the corridor, reprogramming cameras as he came to them. Eventually, he came to a computer console. 

He looked down at the screen, mentally crossing his fingers. If access to the computer was locked, he would need a password to get through. However, if someone had been careless enough to simply shut down the unit, rather than logging off…

He was in luck. As the unit booted up, instead of a password prompt, he saw an inquiry screen with a flashing cursor. 

Obi-Wan grimaced. He wished he had brought along Senator Amidala's R2 unit, or at least some good code-slicing programs. As it was, he didn't know if he could sift through all the garbage, and find what he was looking for.

Shrugging, he typed in the word 'disruptor,' not knowing what else to do. He was not surprised to find out it was classified.

After several more attempts, he still couldn't get the computer to give him any useful information. Finally, he simply called up a map of the building, hoping he could find out what he needed in the command center. Imprinting the layout in his memory, he set off.

Finally, he reached the command center, distinctly aware that what he was trying to do was near-impossible.

At a security cam three levels down from the center, he had stopped to make a recording. While still broadcasting a playback loop of an empty hallway, he had taped a shot of him running down the hallway, lightsabre extended. Now, standing outside the command center, he reached out to the cam he had used, and set it to play back his recording.

It only took a second for the alarms to start blaring. "Intruder alert! Intruder alert! All droids to D deck!"

Obi-Wan lifted his hand symbolically, and used the Force to levitate himself up against the ceiling. 

A moment later, just as he'd predicted, the droids that had been manning the command center came rushing out. A few glanced up and saw Obi-Wan, but he was able to suppress their curiosity easily enough. Finally, when he was sure they were all gone, he lowered himself gently to the floor. 

He walked into the command center, and stood in awe for a moment at the huge array of consoles, blinking lights, and banks of machinery.

Picking a computer, he settled down, and with a certain degree of satisfaction, saw that it was still logged in. The droids were good at following orders, but not much else. Therefore, they wouldn't have thought to log off the computers when they left, unless told specifically to do so. This left Obi-Wan with access to huge array of Separatist secrets at his fingertips. At the moment, however, he was only interested in one. 

It took a few minutes for the computer to access the information, but finally, Obi-Wan knew where the Disruptor was being built. He shivered, and an icy feeling of dread spread down his stomach.

He was going to Hoth.

----- Author's Notes -----

Okay, first of all, I'm sorry that this wasn't a Boba chapter, as I had said it would be, but the next one will be, so don't worry. 

Second, let me explain the whole Disruptor/Death Star thing. When I first started the story, I thought that Obi-Wan would go on a mission to sabotage the Death Star. In fact, in chapter three, I first had Anakin and Obi-Wan discussing the DS, but that's been edited out. Anyway, I like Obi-Wan so much, that I wanted his mission to succeed. And, as we all know, any mission against the Death Star would be pre-doomed to failure, as it shows up in the OT.

Then, I was on the Star Wars message boards, when I saw a topic called "What are your superweapons." It was while reading that thread that the idea of the Disruptor occurred to me. 

Finally, I decided to put the Disruptor in, and use it as a sort of distraction masterminded by Sidious. The Jedi could focus on the Disruptor, while he made his real superweapon on the side. This way, Obi-Wan would be allowed to succeed (which we knew would happen the moment I mentioned the Disruptor, since it doesn't show up in the OT), and yet, the Death Star could live on. Hope that clears things up.

Finally, to Jeffrey, I'm sorry I had to kill Jar Jar, but we all knew it was going to happen sometime. After all, he isn't in Episode 4, 5, or 6. 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: As much as I wish it were so, I do NOT own Star Wars. I may someday, but not now.

Chapter 5

Padme stood in her room, for the first time in her life unsure of what to do.

Two days ago, she had signed on, as usual, and waited for the transmission from Anakin. It was amazing how simply talking to him could alleviate all her concerns and fears. 

She hadn't known, she couldn't have known, that this transmission wouldn't be like the hundreds they had had over the years. She couldn't have known that this one might cost them their jobs, and their reputations. Couldn't have known that they'd be discovered.

For they had been found out, seen by Anakin's former master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had barged in to Anakin's quarters, stunning everyone present, himself included. In that moment of stupor, shock had rode freely from Anakin's face. And although the Force still remained a great mystery to her, she knew that the mental barriers Anakin had put up in his mind, to keep their marriage a secret, had been broken. Obi-Wan knew everything.

Of course, that had been a danger from the very start, and Padme knew it.

She hung her head in shame, wondering for the hundredth time that day what had possessed her to marry Anakin. He was a Jedi, bound by oath to the Force, forbidden from any attachment. 

And she was a Senator, committed to making the galaxy a better place, just like Anakin. That was her calling, her passion. She didn't need love.

But one look into Anakin's eyes, those beautiful eyes, and she knew that just wasn't true. 

Okay, she didn't regret their marriage. She knew that any and all pain she felt now was well worth it. But that did nothing to stop the guilt.

For the guilt she felt was almost too great to bear. She knew in her heart that this was her fault; that if she had only kept her head for a little longer, they wouldn't be in this position. _Why didn't I just say no?_

She looked at Anakin's hologram, that she always kept with her.

_Because I love him, that's why. No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I love him with all my heart, and I would do it all over again if I had the chance._

That was what was eating at her, in truth. If she had the chance to change history, to say no to Anakin's proposal, she wouldn't. She would have done everything the same, even if it meant Anakin would lose his life's work. _Does that make me selfish?_

She knew, logically, it was a foolish question. She had devoted her entire life to public service, and Anakin had known the risks when he had proposed to her, perhaps even better than she did. And he certainly had more to lose, which made the offer all the more flattering.

But her mind wasn't working logically at the moment, and the guilt was threatening to overcome her.

Becoming a Jedi was Anakin's _dream. He wanted it more than anything, and had worked for all his life to achieve it, even harder than she had worked as a Senator. And she had taken that from him._

This guilt, the realization that it was _her fault had hit her like a star going nova, and paralyzed her. She had planned all along to go to Coruscant, to give Anakin the support he no doubt badly needed. But now, she was uncertain; confused. For if she had caused Anakin to lose his dream, if she had destroyed his life, how could he still love her?_

_The only answer: he doesn't. How could he love someone who puts their own desires above his?_

Even as she thought this, however, a bit of indignation began to creep into her spirit.

A marriage was based upon the idea of two people coming together as equals. One always had to be sure to take their share of the blame when a problem arose, and Padme had been sure to do that.

But at the same time, it was doing the marriage an equal disservice if she took more than her share of the blame. 

She smiled. She had often done this, she knew, holding herself more at fault than she deserved. It resulted in a virtually permanent guilty conscience, which was what drove her to public service. 

The problem, and the concept that she had never really understood, was that while it may be better to take more blame than less, there was such a thing as taking too much blame.

Her family had often called her on this, asking her if she would ever allow herself to be 'just Padme.' She had replied, without much conviction, that this was Padme, and that service was her passion.

It was ironic, and a little unlucky, she reflected, that the first time she had followed their advice, it would have such drastic consequences.

_It isn't fair! Other people don't have to choose between love and their job. Why do I?_

Even as she thought this, though, she realized that she should be above those thoughts. No matter how bad she thought she had it, someone, somewhere, would trade places with her in a second.

And even if that weren't so, self pity would hardly do anything to improve her situation. The only way that would happen would be by taking action.

She grinned. And there was no one better than her at taking action.

She started grabbing clothes, throwing them into the suitcase she always kept handy for emergency trips, and started packing. _Besides, she thought, __regardless of what Anakin thinks of me, a trip to Coruscant can't hurt._

She stuffed a few more outfits in her bag, and was about to key the comm to alert the hangar of her unplanned trip, when she felt the muzzle of a blaster being placed on her neck, along with a menacing voice, barely above a whisper, telling her to freeze. 

Before she could react, before she could drop into a combat stance, she felt a sharp jab against her neck, and she lapsed into unconsciousness.

*     *     *

Sitting in the cockpit of his ship, the _Slave I, Boba Fett stared out into the vast infinity of space. It was quite humbling to think that out there, somewhere, there were planets that no living beings had ever set foot on. It was almost enough to make him want to quit the bounty hunting profession, and set out to become an explorer._

He smiled. Almost, but not quite. He had another calling, one that sent him on an equally arduous, yet fulfilling quest: the search for credits. 

And search he would.

Today, the search had brought him to one of the moons of Naboo, for a target that could well prove to be the most satisfying of his career. Perhaps not the most formidable, or elusive, but satisfying all the same. Yes, she was well defended, and, if it came to a fight, resourceful. But it wasn't the challenge that drew him to her. This was _personal, or at least as personal as bounty hunting got. He was hunting Padme Amidala._

Amidala, who had eluded his father for so long. Amidala, who was at least partially responsible for his death. Today, his father would be avenged.

_Or would he?_

Fett frowned. The one thing that his father had constantly drummed into him, above all else, was emotional detachment. To be a good bounty hunter, to be _the best _bounty hunter, you could not have any feelings about a target. They only served to distract you, and dulled an otherwise sharp and focused mind. In making the hunt for Amidala personal, he had betrayed his father. _Father…_

_Stop it, _Fett berated himself silently. If his father would have frowned on taking a hunt personally, he would have frowned even more on mourning for him, especially on such an important mission.

He reached over and punched a button on the console, bringing the Slave I through preflight with the same methodical precision that made him the best bounty hunter in the business.

Only through that, could he honor his father.

*     *     *

Boba Fett walked up to and beneath one of the palace security cams without even so much as a glance at it. A lesser man might have paused for a moment to gloat, but Fett was above such things. His ego was not at stake here, and if it were, endangering the mission would do nothing to help it. He did, however, allow himself a small smile, though it never reached his lips.

For the reason he could walk with impunity, the reason he could stroll in and out of the cam's sights at will, was his suit.

Not his usual Mandalorian armor. No, he had forsaken his armor in this case for the sake of stealth. He was still well-armed, of course – Boba Fett was always well-armed – but there were just some missions that his armor couldn't handle.

For this one, he had contracted the help of legendary inventor and all around genius, Tarx. Quirky and eccentric to boot, he claimed he needed only one name, because his was good enough for two.

Eccentric or not, he was perhaps the only being in the galaxy to understand the secret of a most useful trick: Invisibility.

When Fett first contacted Tarx with the offer of creating a dedicated cloaking device, the old man had scoffed  at the possibility. After a bit of coaxing, and a lot of funds, he had agreed, though reluctantly. At the time, Fett hadn't had high hopes, thinking it nothing more than a long-term investment, and not one to bet on, at that. Even if the inventor did manage to come up with such a machine, Fett hadn't expected it to be inexpensive enough to be practical, and he certainly hadn't expected it to be ready in a matter of months.

To his surprise, and great delight, he had been wrong on both counts.

The problem with previous such machines was that they relied on archaic cams and projection units, which simply photographed what was behind the user, and projected it in front of the user, similar in principal to the _Gaffa lizard of Thyferra, which could change color at will, and thus, blend in with it's background. Unfortunately, with that kind of inferior system, distortion was inevitable._

Tarx's device used the latest in holographic technology to project a small scene directly in front of a guard's eyes, or in the case of a security cam, it's optical sensors_._ From there it was simple matter of filtering out Fett's image, leaving a photorealistic image that was impossible to detect. That, combined with sensor technology that could read where an enemy was and adjust the hologram accordingly, and Fett had an invaluable tool at his disposal in his search for credits.

Invaluable, that is, unless it malfunctioned. Security cams were easy enough to fool; an inattentive guard might not notice the slight shimmer that the projected image created. The motion sensors embedded in the palace would prove much more difficult. Reaching down, he set the dial that controlled the accuracy of the machine to 'high.' Doing so would be a drain on the limited power supply, but the whole operation would be for nothing it he got caught.

Finally, he reached the palace door. It's lack of any kind of gate or door was deceiving, Fett knew. Mounted around it were various swivel guns that could pop out of hidden panels the moment something wrong was detected. If that failed, the whole thing could self-destruct, sealing off the entrance. After the battle of Naboo, the palace had been redesigned with security in mind.

Bracing himself, he took a first, cautious step through the gate. 

Nothing happened.

Another short step, and again, nothing. 

Slowly and carefully, he eased himself through the motion sensors.

And let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He'd done it. 

Reaching down, he shifted the accuracy back to medium. He needed his cloak to last. He made his way up to the Senator's room, carefully checking for guards. Being invisible didn't make him silent, or stop him from being solid, so he still had to be careful.

He was almost to his destination when he ran into his first major problem. Ahead was a corner, and using infrared goggles he had brought along, he could see that two alert guards were on the other side of it. By the time he got around the corner and the cloak locked on to their eyes, he would undoubtedly be spotted.

But Boba Fett was never unprepared.

He quickly took out a small vial, pressed a button, and set it down, backing away slowly. After a few seconds, there was a slight _hiss, and the invisible stun gas, propelled by a tiny fan, began it's trek to the guards._

A few seconds later, Fett heard two soft _thumps, as the guards collapsed to the ground before they had any idea what was happening to them. A mild stun gas only; they would survive to tell the story of how easily they were fooled. With time, the chemical would dissipate enough to inhale, but Fett didn't have time to waste. Stepping around the corner, he took out another vial, activated it, and rolled it to the area that the gas was still hovering. The agent, this time an orange color, spread out into the air with another __hiss, forming a green gas as it reacted with the stun gas. Finally, after a few moments, the air became colorless again, signaling to Fett that it was safe to breathe._

He strode forward, feeling a slight twinge in his lungs from the remnants of the gas, and finally entered into Padme Amidala's room.

And there she was. Packing her various possessions into suitcases, not even giving an occasional glance over her shoulder to check if all was well.

Fett smiled. _They should all be this easy._

Quickly and purposefully, he walked up to the former queen of Naboo, and with a quick, sharp jab to her neck, lapsed her into unconsciousness, and carried her off.

*     *     *

Padme awoke in stages, not quite sure where she was. She was aware of a slight swaying motion; that, and the soft footsteps somewhere below her seemed to suggest that she was being carried off. She couldn't remember anything that would explain why someone would be carrying her, but she knew, instinctively, that to open her eyes now would mean death.

So she kept them shut, careful never to change her breathing rhythm. If whoever was carrying her became aware that she was conscious, they might do something to rectify that situation.

Finally, the fog in her brain cleared, and she began to remember the sequence of events. The packing, the blaster placed at her neck, the whispered threat, then finally, the unconsciousness. It all pointed to one conclusion: she'd been captured.

That terrible realization spurred her into action. As surreptitiously as possible, she began to knead her palm with her hand. Doing so activated a hidden homing device imbedded in her skin, setting off alarms all throughout the palace. With any luck, guards would be converging on them within minutes.

After a few minutes, she risked a quick opening of her eyes.

She was not surprised to find herself on someone's shoulders. She _was _surprised, however, to see they were completely out in the open, walking almost casually along a busy street in Theed.  Surely someone must have noticed her? Regardless, they couldn't help but notice a scream. She opened her mouth…

"Don't delude yourself," a flat emotionless voice said, electronically filtered. "I'm aware that you're awake, and I know about your little homing device. A nice trick…too bad it won't do you any good."

Padme let her voice carry the same condescending tone that the figure seemed to do so well. "Now who's deluding themselves? There are hundreds of guards in the palace. You can't hope to fight all of them off."

The figure seemed unperturbed. "I won't have to. You may have noticed that we're wide in the open here and that no one has noticed us. The reason for this is quite simple: we're invisible. None of these people can see us, and neither will the guards."

So that was it. This bounty hunter, for that was who this mysterious person must be, had somehow figured out a way to become invisible. _Well, Padme thought to herself, __they may not be able to see me…but surely they can hear me. She again opened her mouth to scream…_

"Oh, and don't bother screaming, either," the bounty hunter added, almost casually, "I've just activated a white noise device. It counteracts any sound you make, leaving us virtually silent."

That was that. The hunter had thought of everything.

_No! _she admonished herself. Whoever this bounty hunter was, he certainly wasn't perfect. He would have to make a mistake somewhere, and when he did, she would be ready.

She didn't have to wait that long. Now that she was conscious, the bounty hunter had no need of carrying her. The same thought had apparently struck him, for he swung her around as if to place her on her feet.

And as he was doing so, a small box attached to his stomach became visible.

Somehow, Padme knew that this was the key to their continued invisibility. The guards were just arriving now, and from their confused glances, they had no idea where she was. If she could disable that machine, they'd have a chance.

She waited a moment longer, and then, at just the right time, she jutted her palm out with all of her strength.

The hunter was good, all right. With no shock or surprise whatsoever, he threw her to the ground and brought out two weapons and trained them on the now disorientated guards.

The guards took a minute to regain their balance, but when they did, they too, aimed their weapons at the hunter. 

There were a few tense moments of silence, then one of them spoke. "Give us the girl," he said, "and we won't hurt you."

*     *     *

"Give us the girl," the bravest of them said, "and we won't hurt you."

Fett considered laughing at this. The concept of another being threatening him amused him deeply, and it was likely that none of them had any idea what they had gotten themselves into. Despite being only thirteen, he had recently undergone a slight growth acceleration, and as a result, could best virtually anyone in hand to hand combat. Instead of laughing, however, he went into action.

He tossed his weapons to the ground, then, bending down, he grabbed Padme by the arm and threw her towards the guards. This knocked several of them over, but they were quickly up, escorting her to what they presumed was safety, while others collected his discarded weapons.

Which left about twenty. Twenty highly trained guards against one unarmed man. _It's almost unsporting, _Fett thought.

He charged. Having already calculated his best angle of approach, all of the guards blaster bolts missed him cleanly. Leaping to the ground, he rolled and tripped the guard who had spoken to him a second earlier. He jumped up, landing on and then crushing the man's windpipe. Turning a somersault and then landing on his feet, he head butted a guard, at the same time kicking backwards to knock the air out of another. The guard gasped in pain, and dropped his blaster. Fett reached behind him to grab the blaster out of midair, then spun around and shot two more guards cleanly in the stomach.

_Six down, _he thought, as emotionless as always.

He flung the gun at a guard's face, stunning him, then dropped him to the ground with a kick. Another guard approached, and this time, Fett let the punch connect with his jaw. Using that momentum, he spun around, dropping another guard with a spin kick, then, coming full circle, he jabbed the man that had punched him in the neck. Hearing a whisper of movement behind him, Fett spun and delivered a sharp blow to his would-be attacker's hand, causing the guard to drop his gun in pain. Before it could hit the ground, Fett kicked it, sending it into the guard's groin. 

There were only ten left now, and they were beginning to feel the first inklings of fear. Fett smiled. He was just getting warmed up.

He launched himself into a forward hand-spring. Twisting in midair to avoid a blaster bolt, he delivered a solid, two-footed kick to a guard's chest. Landing on his hands, he grabbed someone's neck with his feet, and with a sharp twist, snapped his neck. He flipped back onto his feet, landing between two more guards. They collapsed simultaneously, as Fett crushed their windpipes with blows to their necks. 

The six that were left approached on all sides, trying to overwhelm Fett. _As if it will do them any good._

Dropping to the ground, Fett tripped a guard with a sweep kick, knocking him into the air. He went up on one hand, then delivered a sidekick directly to the flying man's chest, knocking him a good five meters away. From there, he flipped himself backwards, and with a kick to the temple, knocked out another guard. He landed on his feet, and, grabbing two guards, brought their heads together with a loud crack. A spin kick dropped another to the ground, leaving just the one guard, cowering in fear. Fett leapt into the air, with one kick, knocking the man's gun away, and with another, dropping the man to the ground.

Fett landed, and with barely a glance at the twenty men sprawled around him, calmly walked away.

*     *     *

"There's a ship approaching," the woman at the sensor station confirmed. "_Firespray_ class, by the looks of it."

Padme's heart filled with dread. At least twenty of her best guards had been down there, and for this mysterious bounty hunter to have beaten them all, he would have to be more dangerous than any of them had realized.

It had been a calculated risk, coming out into space. For the bounty hunter to have penetrated the palace so thoroughly, there had to have been some inside help. Even with the invisibility, it had still been too easy. Therefore, she didn't know who she could trust in the palace.

On the other hand, if he was working with a partner, that partner could very well be waiting in orbit, in case she managed to escape.

"What are our options," she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

The navigations officer winced. "Not much," he admitted. "Right now, we're heading towards the edge of the planetary mass shadow, so we can jump to hyperspace. But even with our head start, that ship will catch us long before we reach the edge. We can either keep on this heading, and hope our ship can take the beating, or…"

"Or what?"

The officer hesitated. "In a situation such as this, surrender is a perfectly legitimate option. In fact - "

"Not an option," Padme said sharply. "We go on."

The officer bowed his head. "Yes, Milady."

*     *     *

Fett sat hunched over in his cockpit, streaking after a target that had almost, but not quite, eluded him. It was, he reflected, entirely too similar to his recent chase of the incompetent Gungan, Jar-Jar Binks. And if he had his way, the similarities wouldn't end there.

All along, it had been his plan to take Padme back to Slave I, and kill her there, where he could get proper documentation. Palpatine was a stickler for detail, and had been known to refuse payment if he wasn't sure who had been killed. Otherwise, Fett could have simply killed her in her room.

_Well, _Fett thought, _a recording of her ship being atomized will have to do._

Reaching out, he punched a button on his console, sending a missile out towards the speck that was Padme's ship.

Before he could lean back and smile in satisfaction, a chime sounded. He had received a transmission. Frowning, he leaned over and read the readout…

And stiffened in shock. Fingers flying over his control board, he typed in a series of codes and overrides. Finally, he hit the 'send' button.  Ahead of him, the tranquility of space was suddenly spoiled by a huge explosion, buffeting his ship. The missile had been detonated.

He just hoped it had been on time.

***** Author's Notes *****

Wow…finally. Bet you thought I had forgotten about this fic, didn't you? Well, it's back from the dead!

Anyway, sorry about the delay. I got caught up with school, and that, combined with my writer's block has made me put this off for a few months. It's funny though…I thought this was going to be one of the shortest chapters, but it actually turned out to be the longest yet.

On another note: I was just watching A New Hope, and I noticed something. In the Falcon en route to Alderaan, Luke is using his lightsabre, but it's pure white and isn't nearly as bright as usual. Isn't it interesting how my training lightsabre features less glow, just as this one does, and how my training lightsabre would be perfect for use in ship, because it wouldn't damage anything? Maybe I inadvertently had the same idea as George Lucas…or not.

Anyway, please review – it'll only take a second – and look for the next chapter pretty soon.


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